


Running Still

by Dedenne (Lampent)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Gen, No Romance, Pokemon Sun and Moon SPOILERS, all of them are friendships/familial/ or enemies, gladion centric, lusamine is an abusive mother, none of the relationships are romantic/sexual, team skull - Freeform, team skull grunts - Freeform, warnings for emotional abuse and description of mental illnesses caused by abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-02 01:49:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8647183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lampent/pseuds/Dedenne
Summary: Gladion isn't even a teenager when he runs away from home. He shouldn't have to deal with this, he shouldn't have to be homeless and running and scared. But Type: Null doesn't deserve to be locked away, so they have to go, even if Gladion is sick and terrified from what his mother's done to him.





	1. Runaway

**Author's Note:**

> this is based on the canon implication that lusamine was emotionally/mentally abusive to her kids, and my own personal experiences as a survivor of a lot of kinds of parental abuse. in this fic gladion has some of the same mental illnesses i have because of trauma, and the story focuses on him growing as a person and a trainer and learning how to cope and care for himself and Type: Null. i'll put warnings in the notes for each chapter if other kinds of heavy subjects come up, for the first chapter the major warning is the effects of emotional abuse and a tic disorder, specifically conversion disorder caused by anxiety.

Gladion still can’t believe he’s doing this.

His hand is shaking over the keypad; the tremors started shortly after She got worse and they are near-constant now. It takes a minute to enter the password, but with fear rushing in his head, knocking his knees together, the time sticks and stretches and refuses to let him go. Failure and capture are whispering at him from the back of his mind as he begins the unthawing process. One, he can only save one, he only managed to steal one password even though he wanted to free them all. 

He isn’t even going to be able to free his sister.

Type: Null is almost defrosted now, still sleepy but no longer trapped, and Gladion fumbles with the ball to hold it. His thumbs smash against the plastic until he finally hits the center of the button, and the awakening Null is sucked in with a ping. Gladion isn’t really religious, but now he tries to beg Arceus or Mew or the Tapus to do something, anything to help him get away.  
Stealing a boat is next, but since it’s night only the two regular guards are out on the docks. He shivers and shakes and almost knocks the Poké Ball out of his jacket pocket with the force of his tremors. When the guards both turn around and walk up toward the elevator, he dashes for the boat closest to him and slams down behind the wheel, arms immobilized by his tics. There’s a key in his pocket, wrapped up in the paper with the password and a sticky note with a map traced on it in pen. He’s going to have to wait to get it though, his body isn’t cooperating, all he can think about is Her eyes and the hate in Her voice and how She will kill him for this, he’s going to die when She catches him, and then there will be no one to protect Lillie.

Gladion doesn’t know why, because running away means leaving Lillie to take the full force of Her abuse, but thinking of his sister makes him determined to do this. He’s going to get away and leave them all behind and never ever see any of them ever again, and maybe he can stop worrying when he’s away, if She can’t touch him anymore.

It takes half an hour for the shaking to calm down enough for him to get the key and start the boat, but it’s okay because he’s still small enough to be hidden by the boat’s walls when he sits. Gladion barely knows how to drive, especially with the constant jerking of his hands, but the ocean is smooth tonight and forgives his sudden movements. Maybe his prayer was heard. The full moon hangs above him, lending light, and Gladion tries to imagine that Lunala is up there shielding him with its wings. He needs all the help he can get.


	2. Masking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladion lands in Heahea City, where he is finally safe, but his mind brings Lusamine's damage with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels a bit odd because of what needed to happen to move the plot to where it needs to be, and the important story starts in the next chapter. Warning for more descriptions of emotional abuse and its effects.

The sun is soft gold brushing against the horizon when he finally sees land. The adhesive from his hastily-drawn map is wearing out from wind and sea spray that battered it during the night’s sailing, but he can still make out the scrawled ink name of the islands. This must be Akala. There are several short buildings he can barely make out, and two tall towers, one at each side of the island. As his boat drifts closer, Gladion can make out the shape of a familiar resort, one near the beach that he visited when he was younger. His father liked vacations; they took one every summer as a family. Gladion hasn’t been to the beach in years. Sand bothers Her, She says it’s made of flaws and breaks in things that used to be beautiful. 

When Lillie fell and tore the lace of her skirt She called her sand, She said it was like shattering fine china and Lillie was a stupid bull. 

By now Gladion sort-of understands steering, and even though he scrapes the boat against the pier he knows how to dock it next to what looks like a police station. Not good. He’s a thief and a runaway now. He’s going to have to lie. Gladion is a good liar. It’s the only way he knew how to protect himself from Her. There was a routine, every night when he wanted to go to bed, he had to walk up to her office and stand just outside the door and tell her that he loved her and She would say that She loved him and they would both say goodnight. He was always lying through his teeth. 

Sometimes he wonders if She was lying too. 

No officers react when he walks by the station, in his expensive white shirt and recently-ironed pants and neat white shoes. She picked out all of his outfits, but if She is going to look for him he needs to get rid of them.  
Gladion walks into the nearest clothing store and picks out the opposite of what he thinks She likes. Black jacket with uneven lines, another black shirt with bright logos on the front, dark pants without any buttons, shoes that come from the secondhand section and look scuffed but sturdy. He’s going to need to save money for food and a place to live, and it’s probably better to get rid of the clothes he has now. The woman working behind the register is willing to accept a trade, but only if he chooses cheaper items. Gladion swaps the branded shirt for a plain red one. He heads for the dressing room and tugs the new items on.   
The shirt is scratchy and the jacket is thick and a bit too large, but the shoes fit well. He’s still too recognizable in the mirror. His hair is long and in a single braid like Lillie’s, because She liked making them match like dolls in a set. He’s going to have to cut it.

Three thousand is expensive, and he hates the way it hangs over his face and sticks up. At least his features are sort of obscured. Gladion has been following the street to the Hano Grand Resort for several minutes now, and his new hair bounces against his face with every step.  
“Hey!” someone shouts, and the suddenness makes him jump. Has he been caught? Oh Arceus he has, She’s going to kill him, She’s going to get Type: Null back and torture it, why did he think he could do anything to stop Her?  
“Me and my Lillipup are looking for items!” It’s a schoolboy. He’s holding a leash on a small Pokemon. Neither of them look anything like the Aether Foundation. What’s wrong with Gladion, why is he so scared and stupid? Idiot, the kid isn’t going to turn him in, he should just get out of here before he gets caught for real. 

He starts to walk up the dirt path away from the city and ignores the tears that scatter on the ground. Crying isn’t beautiful.


	3. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladion has a flashback and Null helps him ground after it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for descriptions of a flashback and physical/verbal abuse.

He’s spent three days at the motel and still hasn’t figured anyhting out yet. His rent is paid for two years, something that shocked the landlady, but he doesn’t have anything other than the room and his clothes. Except for Null. Its Poké Ball is resting on the bedside table, untouched. Gladion wants to let it out, set it free like he planned to, but fear keeps his hands twitching at his sides. He knows the Pokémon isn’t a monster, but he’s learned to be scared of things even when they aren’t supposed to hurt him. She taught him that. 

“I’m sorry.” he murmurs, staring at the ball. His voice is unexpectedly weak, which frightens him more. Running away was supposed to make him stronger, it was supposed to set him free. What if he can’t survive here?

Maybe She was right. Gladion is ugly and stupid and broken; the only way to be worth something is to belong to Her.

But she was going to hurt Null, and even if Gladion doesn’t deserve to live, Null does. He will resign himself to worthlessness if it means helping Null. He reaches for the Poké Ball slowly, trying to still his trembling hand. Instead he brushes it onto the floor and has to kneel, cupping both hands as firmly as he can. It is another mark of his brokenness. He opens the motel door with an elbow and sets out along Route 8, a shaking child alone on a wide road in the night.

Eventually he finds signs marking trial grounds. They should be empty at this time, no one will be around to see Null. A few small grass Pokémon make tiny protests as he shuffles to the center of the clearing. Some of it is almost musical, like violin strings being plucked by an unskilled child. 

A child who was beaten soon after, whose hands grew red and stinging while he put the instrument back in its display case. A child who learned his music was as unwanted as his words. 

Gladion knows it is starting but he doesn’t know how to stop it. Running away was supposed to fix this, She was the source of his pain and now he is never going to be near her again, but his mind won’t listen to his reasoning. He can feel the violin in his hands, heavy against his new wounds. His fingers are small and swollen, there is pressure mounting in his face but he can’t cry. The images play in his head in sequence, over and over and over. He falls to the ground but doesn’t feel the grass, just Her hands against him. The flashback continues like a movie reel. Slap, scream, shove, and put the violin back. He is six years old again and trapped in that room, that body, that day. When he tries to move, the weight of the little body imposed on his feels so wrong that all Gladion can do is stay still and throb and hear Her voice.   
A new force joins the pressure on his face. It is cold and soft, nothing like Her fury. He can’t see through the heavy blur of tears, but the comforting thing keeps moving against his real body and not the ghost one trapped in the past. Slowly Gladion works on focusing. It has a texture and color. So does the soil beneath him. Both are brown and gritty. There are sounds too, the lapping of the thing, the humming of bugs, the soft whisper of the wind. He is not six years old anymore and he is not under Her hands. 

He sits up slowly. Instinct makes him afraid of the dirt on his hands and clothes, but he manages to reassure himself. There is no one to punish him here and now. 

Null continues to lick the side of his face. Its Poké Ball is underneath Gladion’s knee, broken by the force of falling. Null is not what he expected. It doesn’t move like a beast slayer. Legs bent and head bowed, softly lapping at his cheek, it reminds Gladion of a Herdier. He stretches out a shaking hand to touch it, and the creature allows the contact. It’s a little warm in some places and cool like metal in others. The fringe around its neck is smooth but leather-hard. Its eyes are watching him with a definite intelligence, perhaps even with emotion. He reaches up to hug around its neck.

“Thank you.” It watches while he stands up. Gladion wonders how he will bring it back to the motel without a ball. He wonders if he should bring it back. Does it want to come? He will let it choose. “I’m going back. You can do what you want.” He doesn’t know if it can understand, but it seems to choose to come, slowly trailing after him while he walks. Route 8 seems much smaller with a friend.


End file.
